Recipe for Disaster
by Sweet Steffie
Summary: Some divas should never be let into the kitchen, especially when they are scorned and pissed off.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Recipe for Disaster  
**Author**: Steffie  
**Rating**: R  
**Summary**: Well, not everything can come out right when you follow the recipe. Especially when the chef is a scorned woman.  
**Category**: Wrestling  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this story.

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**Sometimes I wonder if he would have stayed if I couldn't cook**.

Sure, I was hot, good for conversation, and I could fuck his brains out just as good, if not better than any of the other divas or ring rat bitches around. He may have had his fair share of those, but I damn well know he hasn't so much as thought about any other bitch ever since I first blew him.

Don't get me wrong you know, I am not a ring rat, nor a diva search reject that that still magically gets more airtime than the real divas around here. I happened to be one of the divas that have to watch the bleach blond bitches get my airtime. It's funny though, I was once the diva with the most airtime. Now look at me, at any of the real wrestling divas around her. I have to job to the likes of Candice Michelle! Now Michelle McCool I could handle, but Candice?

Anyway, I spent enough time worrying about those bitches. They aren't my real problem. It is the guys that fall for them that is my problem. Guys like Orton, Kennedy, Edge, you know, it was expected that they would fall for the tramps. Personally I think Orton made it so that Rochelle was it? I think it was him that fucked her so hard that she couldn't sit for a week.

But as soon as those tramps sunk their claws into my friends, that's when I get into bitchy mode. They preyed on Eddie's pain from his divorce, and now he is permanently scarred with the image of Jenna Jameson's wannabe's snatch. God, I though even Jeff could resist, but one of the natural bust girls got him. Sad really, I never thought he'd go for the ditz. She was dumber than Jessica Simpson. Yes people, it is possible. I'll admit though, she was a bit nicer then the others, but God she was stupid. Thinking Buffalo wings were really from buffalos. The stupidity factor could only be tolerated to a certain extent, even in bed.

That's when these motherfuckers finally realize how great sexually and socially women like me are.

Damn, I know how to fuck him good.

So right about now you are asking yourself why I would be worried if I really am as good as I claim to be.

Well just like every fucking woman, I am somewhat insecure and dare I admit intimidated by these bitches. Well, even the mighty have fallen prey. Stephanie McBitch never recovered after that one. Ouch, I still have botched match bumps to prove it.

It's not necessarily surprising that Hunter strayed, it is however surprising that he was stupid enough to actually cheat on the boss.

I heard he lost one of his balls. I know better than to ask.

Chocolate cake I am making now. I have been in a pastry mode lately. I haven't really had a sweet tooth lately, but the sugar will conceal the secret ingredient. People underestimate the power of silent ingredients that are actually what makes the dish amazing. I mean seriously, would you enjoy seared tuna if you didn't have soy, wasabi and ginger?

And I am also stupid like every other woman when they are in love. I ignore the obvious to make myself believe that my man is perfect. Well sexually he is. If you can make me shriek at the top of my lungs, then you are a keeper. God, the way he flicks and rolls his tongue. You know what? You should try straddling his face while he goes on you. Riding his tongue is so much more fucking fantastic then riding his dick.

Anyway, I am peeved that I forgot the brown sugar. Its stronger and more intense then white sugar. Hopefully it will hide the bitter taste of it. Personally I wouldn't know. I have never eaten my murder weapon.

You know, to a certain extent I am not all that surprised. I mean seriously, I would be so fucking pissed too if I was a man and my woman didn't act like a two cent tramp when I wanted. Geez, why would any man want a woman that is actually interesting outside of the bedroom? Oh no, that is completely whack. Micky thought so too. I don't even think she is worth 2 cents anymore. Not like Kenny cares anyway. I doubt he can even count to two cents. I bet he can count the times he was blown by the Spirit Squad though. NICKY! Gimme a hickey on my dicky! MITCH MY BITCH! Ugh.

My hatred doesn't necessarily stem from jealousy. I am far from jealous. I am furious. Furious that they are wasting my oxygen. Thanks to them Trish no longer has oxygen. She was my best friend. Keyword there WAS. She was until she slit her wrists. Walking in on Jerky fucking Layla in her own damn bed IN HER WEDDING dress wasn't exactly a nice present.

But my goal is wipe to away all these bitches. God made a mistake with them, I am just going to clean up his mess.

Ivory thinks I have lost my mind. Mind you, Ivory is the only one around here high enough on crack to understand and most probably teach me to kill them effectively. Sadly she sees no more fun it torturing them. Something about them being too much of plastic to actually feel a blade going through them.

And Ivory doesn't have any motive anyway. John "pretty boy" Cena is nowhere near remotely interested in anything other then her. She may be one of my best friends, but I think she is kinda tired of sitting in that police cell with me. I wonder if that restraining order Webber has against is finally expired.

Great, the batter is done and ready for the over. Just one more ingredient.

Two cups of minced white oleanders should do.

All I have to do now is figure out who is going to eat it. My man, or those bitches.

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Note: For those who don't understand, white oleanders are highly poisonous flowers that can result in death if even. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: Recipe for Disaster  
**Author**: Steffie  
**Rating**: R  
**Summary**: Well, not everything can come out right when you follow the recipe. Especially when the chef is a scorned woman.  
**Category**: Wrestling  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this story.

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**Monday Night Raw.**

As expected, I am not on the line up. I haven't been on the line up for about 3 weeks now. Yet I am compelled to come every week. If it wasn't for Lita keeping me busy by helping her warm up, I swear to God I would have been fired by now for beating the shit out of one of these whores. I don't see why though, I consider that a productive workout.

"Hey honey! How was your weekend?" That voice is enough to break my eardrums. I'll admit, she was nice to me, but I think I mistake stupid for nice with her. Maria, currently a redhead comes up to me and nearly topples me over with a hug. If her chest wasn't that inflated, she might have been able to hug me tighter. I had managed to block out her incoherent babbling. It was a feat that took me weeks to perfect. I don't think I have ever seen her dress that horrible. She had on some rather funny looking blue suit. I believe she said something about shooting t-shirts out of a gun for the audience tonight. I don't know, frankly I don't care.

No, that's a lie. I do care.

It ticks me off when she starts twirling her hair. It amazes me how stupid she really is. Just the idea of that stupid facial expression that she puts up is enough for me to shove my fist down her throat. Luckily for her, Bubba Ray Dudley interrupts me before I could entertain the thought any further. Bastard.

"Hey ladies." He politely says. "Hi Bobby!" Maria screeches. I couldn't help but roll my eyes, and by the look on Bubba's face, he couldn't blame me for it. But I could tell the reason he was here was for her.

"Listen Maria, I have a proposition for you when you go out to the ring with that T-Shirt gun," Bubba began. "I want you to call out Randy Orton to the ring, and I know you don't like him." I could tell that Bubba had an evil plan, and he was trying to say it as simple as possible. Bimbos like Maria only understood simple first grade language. Much like Paris Hilton.

"No I don't like him. Quite frankly I think he deserves to be eaten by weasels," Maria pouted. Grrr, that pout just ticked me off even more. I wanted to just remove myself from the conversation, but deep down I knew that Bubba needed me there to keep himself from strangling the bitch. Funny, I needed him for the same reason. That's what I love about Bubba. He was one of the few men here in the WWE that I don't have to worry about when it comes to these bitches. I'll make an exception about Trish way back when.

As Bubba explains to her what he wants her to do, I notice the other diva search rejects in the back. One of the blond ones is standing against the wall, twirling her hair and biting her lower lip, gazing oh so desperately in Dave Batista's eyes. I notice her moving her leg in such a motion that forces her skirt to hike up. Oldest trick in the book. Even I used that damn move back when I was lovestruck. Thankfully for me, my brain cells kicked into gear soon after.

Does peroxide kill brain cells? Must be. I cant find any other reason as to why these sluts act this way.

"But what's the catch here?" Maria pouts. That screeching tone that sounds worse than nails on a chalkboard bring me back to the conversation. I could now tell by Bubba's tone that he was getting impatient with her. Funny, I was expecting him to turn into bimbo killer much faster at this point.

"I am trying to explain the catch so you don't have to stand around here and wonder what it is Maria." Hearing him grit his teeth was kinda funny. His attempts to educate her were extremely entertaining and annoying all at the same time.

"I know what you should go for. It'll hurt him. Bad." Maria exclaimed. After a few moments, she skipped off, hopefully she wouldn't forget what to do in 5 minutes.

"Why do you even bother?" I asked. Bubba shrugged. "I am trying to make proper use of them without having them strip off their clothes," he proudly said. He then went off to his dressing room, but not before kissing me atop my head and telling me I looked fabulous in my new leather jacket. He noticed that I looked a little different today and that I had a new outfit, albeit in a style that I don't normally wear. I used to get a lot of those comments from my friends and fellow co-workers before we got infested with pests. Now everybody notices what you DON'T have on.

Hell, Stacy Keibler's ass couldn't even turn heads anymore. Surprisingly, I don't hate Stacy. On the contrary, she is a nice girl and she does actively try and be productive in the ring. She herself admits that she isn't cut out for the ring, but she tries. And she herself stood up to management and stated she wouldn't be exploited in storylines if it couldn't help excel other female wrestlers. She got my respect right there, but not before I roughed her up in the ring.

There are a few things about Candice that I can't stand. Other then her existence is the fact that she feels the need to sing her damn entrance music AND, the worst part is she feels the need to dance and put up sex faces to it too. I think she noticed my looks of disgust as I grabbed a donut from the table.

"I am practicing my entrance," she says to me, in a kind of shitty tone too might I add. Her mother never thought her manners it seemed.

"You don't need to make an entrance, you need to make an impression," I just as shitty reply back to her. Her gasp of shock was so big that I think it cracked the layers of her lipstick. Before she could berate me I push past her to the ladies locker room.

Once I get to my place of solace, I can tell that I am not the only one irritated. I don't know how we managed to be so blessed, but we, the actual wrestling women get a dressing room SEPARATE from the diva ring rat bitches. Granted, we don't have as many luxurious items, but all we needed is each other.

Victoria is pissed. I can't really blame her. I saw the schedule. One of the blond rejects gets a clean pin over her in a 2-minute match. Shame, absolute shame. Don't let the tv persona fool you. Vicky really is that crazy. The fucked up bitch once nearly bit my head off when she thought me and her boy-toy were an item. Please, me and Batista? That's just disgusting.

Now we are friends, probably because we cant kill each other.

"You bitches, I feel like drinking tonight. Wanna go to that bar across the hotel after?" Ivory pops in. Her state of dress, or should I say undress makes it clear that she just serviced John's parts, and I chuckle. I had to admit, I have never seen Ivory this happy. Ivory was like Samantha from Sex and the City. Can't hold her down. I guess that John was Ivory's underwear model. Whatever that guys name was, that shaved his head for Samantha. Anyway, she won't admit that she loves him, but she does. Damn it, he tamed the beast!! Not something we ever thought would happen.

Its my friends here that make it bearable. Vicky, Lita and Ivory are my best friends. I hung out with the others too. Melina was alright to hang out with, when she wasn't screaming her head off, and Sharmell wasn't that bas either. But Ivory and I had been here for years, and Vicky was just tough enough to handle us.

We are not that much different from our TV personas, but then again our tv personas is probably why I will get away with killing some people.

Just like they killed Trish.

I could tell that they were thinking what I was thinking. Today was supposed to be Trish's birthday. Today management would have had her beat one of us in a good match and then we would go out and party. That's what would have happened.

That what should have happened.

Before I could think of anything else, Lillian Garcia walks in and lets us know that Victoria is on in a 10 minutes. We nod and tell her thanks. She was a nice chick. I take that as my cue. I pick up my bag and head to my man's locker room. From there I will see if I am going to feed him some chocolate cake.

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Every wrestler past and present is in this story. Lets see how far I can go before you guess right


End file.
